When I was growing up in Superior, just about everyone’s lawn had a bright yellow flowers which my mother told me were dandelions, a weed that didn’t belong in a lawn.

My father, the practical banker, wanted our lawn to set a good example. At that time the only way to control those pesky yellow flowers was to dig them out. This task fell at first to my mother, but, as I grew older, this became a shared task.

I was trusted with a sharp paring knife. I would be sent out with a galvanized pail and knife to remove the yellow scourge. My mother showed me that it wasn’t enough to just sni...